i do not own The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod. that belongs to Heather Brewer. i just altered it. its a school thing i have to do for lit and haven't uploaded anything on here in a while so i thought "hey why not" but yeah. it doesn't belong to me.
The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod: Eleventh Grade Burns
Chapter 1: A Slayer's Resolve.
Original story by: Heather Brewer
Added sentences' by: Rachel Morris (G-13)
The vampire spun around, a wild, unhinged look in his eye. Those wild blood shot eyes holding hate and contempt for the person attacking him. He lunged forward but the slayer skillfully dodged his blow, delivering a hard roundhouse kick to the creatures throat. the surprised look in the vampires eyes gave the slayer a strange sense of satisfaction.the vampire fell to the ground, coughing, choking on its own blood. more feelings of satisfaction flooded the slayers eyes, watching his victim fall writing in pain. the slayer could have killed the beast a half hour ago. it was one of the easier tasks he had been given. but this wasn't about ridding the world of another abominations (thought that was definitely the end goal). it was never about ridding the world from those blood sucking fiends, for joss. it was about a slayer needing to release pent up hostility and cleanse himself of all his clouded thoughts. all of his muddy, foggy, bog filled thoughts.
thoughts that were now perfectly clear. oh so beautifully clear.
those blood sucking things could not be trusted. they were monsters with vile habits that could never ever be trusted. not even when they donned the mask of a relatively normal teenager. like so many do. not even when they claim to be your friend. like some will try. especially when they use their insidious powers to gain your trust and get you to reveal secrets that even those closest to you didn't know. like an unbearable amount do. especially when their name was Vladimir Tod. Like only one was.
joss was done playing games. even with that scum bag Vlad. with Vlad's face planted firmly in the forefront of his imagination, he slipped a sliver tipped wooden stake from his back pack and approached the vampire on the ground with an eager step. a slow, but eager step, watching the fear pass over the vile mosquito's face as he saw the stake. he whispered "For you, Cecile," and thrust the stake forward, before the beast could draw a single breath. the single breath that would have been its last. blood-hot, slick, so deep red that it appeared black in the moon light- poured out over his hands. it empowered joss and gave him the feeling of accomplishment he craved so much. the nameless vampire fell still. that haunting stillness of death.
joss straightened his shoulders, triumphantly. triumphant over his thoughts and the demonic mosquito.
from his backpack he withdrew a cell phone and hit number two on speed dial. a generic telephone ring sounded. when the voice on the other end answered, he said, "this is joss, I need a cleanup on the ocean side of Russian Gulch State Park, the target is secure. am I cleared to move onto my next objection?" any tone infliction that would have given away how joss was feeling was kept out of his voice.
when the voice on the other end answered in the affirmative joss hung up the phone. not taking the conversation any further. there was no need to continue the conversation. not when neither cared about how the other's family was. there was no need for small talk. not one bit
all that mattered was that he was going back to Bathory. back to Vladimir Tod.
and this time, he would walk away with no regrets. None what so ever.